


Along With Youth

by phantom_rain, Requiemesque



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Sitcom, roommate au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom_rain/pseuds/phantom_rain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requiemesque/pseuds/Requiemesque
Summary: Getting a new roommate is easy, keeping the right one is downright stressful. Sasha thinks that Charlotte might just be the perfect fit, Bayley just wants to survive, and Becky just wants to keep her room. Though the apartment is kind of a disaster, all it takes is to squint hard enough to see that differences are what brings out worthwhile relationships.And to see that well… maybe it’s not all too bad.
Relationships: Bayley | Davina Rose & Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox, Bayley | Davina Rose/Carmella, Carmella/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox, Sasha Banks & Bayley | Davina Rose & Charlotte & Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox, Sasha Banks & Charlotte, Sasha Banks/Bayley | Davina Rose/Charlotte/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox, Sasha Banks/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox, Sasha Banks/Drew Mcintyre
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. Moving In

An audible thump in her heart overshadows the lines before her eyes like they were gibberish. Before this lucrative professional opportunity, Sasha had pretty much thought that she held her tiny world in the palm of her hands. Known by some of the people in the city, she had thought herself to be quite the darling of modern phone cameras.

Sasha sits tensely on the sofa, scrolling through her phone’s gallery mindlessly as sweat cracks from her temples. “That’s the thing I just don’t know what I’m going to send. I’ve seen their models’ portfolios and I really don’t think I have anything that looks like _that_.”

Flashing her phone to reveal a less than kid-friendly photo of a tastefully, minimally clothed model, Sasha sighs and it almost felt like what a surrender sounded like.

“Wow…” Bayley blinks herself into lucidity. “When’s the deadline for the photos?” 

“Today, actually… I mean they just asked for a few, you know? Just to get a feel of my _vibe_ or whatever that means.”

Bayley taps her feet pensively, soft boots clicking against the light-colored pine flooring, leaving a barrage of soft thumps in place of the quizzical silence that encased the room. “I don’t know… it’s a pretty busy day today, but if you’d like Becky and I could just meet the roommate so that you could get your stuff in order?”

“Absolutely not! I mean…” Sasha sighs. “Look…we need to look as good as possible and us not being complete…”

“Yup.” The reply had a little bit of a dragged out pop as Bayley leans back on the couch. 

The truth was that it has been a hard past couple of months paying for the loft’s dues. Rent has only started to increase as the housing market refused to plummet in New York City. Like age, rent prices are probably the other thing that never, _ever_ come down. 

“I mean, I guess I could do it here,” Sasha contemplates aloud, cautiously considering the time of day and the capacity of whatever equipment she has in her room to create an alluring motif. 

“Do what here?” The door bursts open, the metallic knob slamming hard against the wall, creating an unnecessarily dramatic flare upon impact as Becky leverages her leg to further spread it open. 

“Nothing important,” Sasha answers.

She walks over to the counter adjacent to the couch and leans back with a triumphant smirk, waving a piece of torn tissue paper tucked between her fingers.

The two merely stare at her in dead silence before Bayley relaxes back into the couch and Sasha’s stare falls to the floor again, hands nervously clasped.

“I mean if there’s anything I can assist you with I’d be glad to help.” Bayley adds, “I’m pretty decent at angles anyway. Or… so, I’d like to think?”

“Thanks… I’ll definitely let you know.”

Sporting a slightly offended look, Becky rolls her eyes and wildly shakes the piece of tissue paper in her fingers once again. “Oh _come on_ , you’re not even gonna ask me why I’m in such a good mood?”

Met with another wave of silence, Becky just shakes her head and pulls a stool from the counter and brashly lurches herself on top of it. 

“Fine, just know that you’re missing on some epic story. What’s up with you guys anyway?” she grumbles, quietly observing Sasha’s lack of targeted irritation as the girl only stares towards the furniture-ridden horizon of their apartment as if the sun rose from it rather than at her with daggers from her eyes. 

“Oh, I see what’s going on.”

Becky had always believed herself just a couple of steps below the official definition of the term ‘genius’, if she was being polite. Having mostly survived through last minute stock knowledge and critical thinking without having to lift a finger in college, she rides through mid-twenties similarly. 

“You got an upcoming project and you want help. Am I correct?” She declares with a decisive tone, as if, she didn’t say the most obvious and observable thing in the entirety of the Bronx. “What are you doing this time? Hopefully nothing embarrassing like that tampon ad, huh?”

Becky pauses again before her face splits into a proud grin. 

“God, that one was just bad. _Period_.” She stops for a minute, and by a minute, an excruciatingly long few seconds to heartily make fun of and laugh at the memory.

A low confusion between a hiss and a scoff crawls out of Sasha’s throat. Instead of hurling yet another variation of the script ‘do you know how much of an asshole you are?’, Sasha instead rolls her eyes and Becky responds in kind. “Oh come on that was _bloody_ funny.”

“Go fuck yourself.” And of course, situationally loud footsteps that the floor below them was absolutely used to belongs to a Sasha storming off into her room 

Bayley just shakes her head at Becky.

“What did I do?”

Seemingly having heard it, Sasha’s muffled irritation pierces through her door and towards the living room. 

“Oh and you need to _fucking pay rent!_ ” 

And Bayley doesn’t even have to tilt her head towards the source of thunderous irritation for her to know that steam might have come from Sasha’s nostrils. She releases an exasperated sigh, flattening into the couch for another problematic day. “Good job, dude.”

“I was just kidding.” Becky retorts, almost huffing with the way that no one else had been proud of her except for herself. “Not my fault she’s being touchy about it.”

“Bayley?” A more modulated voice follows after and Bayley paces towards Sasha's room before a loud doorbell reverberates across the loft. 

It catches everyone's attention as Sasha's head peaks out of her room with a curious brow and Becky practically jumps towards the door out of excitement.

"Woop that's my package!" She almost slips on her way to the door attempting to get there first in a competition against exactly nobody.

* * *

Sasha sighs into her hand, the skimpy piece of swimsuit sliding from her palms and towards the shadows of the bed's leg. "I mean _do_ have clothes for the shoot, I just- I don't know? It feels weird putting them on at all."

"Well…" Bayley walks from the door, shyly dipping herself on top of the bed as her gaze alternates between the discarded clothing and Sasha's pursed lips. "If it's too uncomfortable, then maybe… It's a sign that you shouldn't do it? You don't have to do it just because it pays, heck I can probably ask to teach extra units if that's-"

"No it's not just that." Sasha loudly ponders, her mind drifting into a sea of uncertainties as she fails to notice that her thumbs had been scrolling through her own Instagram profile. Picture after picture a reminder of what kind of model she was not. “Don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it, but I-”

_‘I don’t know!? Need to do something new… different! Earn more, be more, level-up…’_

Sasha has never mentioned it, or anything for the matter, that remotely involves any sort of insecurity she has over her career. She was an anxious person for the most part, freaking out over filters more than she was over the fact that ordinary people are not as excessively particular as she was. 

But the deep-seated anxieties never saw the light of day.

“I-...”

' _I’ve been on a plateau and I don’t know exactly where I should go.’_

And the fact was that the thought pesters her in the moments where she catches herself off guard, when her mind stills and wanders towards exactly nowhere. 

“-You?” Bayley clears her throat, interrupting the thought or lack thereof that was trailing off of Sasha’s lips.

' _Feel like I’m stuck.'_ “Got fat…It's dinner.” Sasha finally says, plastering a mockery of what an upset person would look like. She tells herself that maybe in a different life, she could have been an actress too. “It’s just so annoying, but I guess I’ll find a proper angle. Do you think you could help me with that?”

“Oh!” Bayley feels like she knows, but of course, she isn’t going to mention it. “For sure!”

Because when Sasha changes into the swimwear that Bayley swears did not leave her momentarily stunned, the Instagram model’s physique was still close to picture-perfect - mildly sculpted and curved where it needed to be.

“So?” Sasha curtsies hesitantly, anxiously waiting for a reaction that wasn’t a close-lipped stare. “What do you think?”

A brash hand opens the door knob as the door erupts open. “Ladies! Did you guys see where my swiss army knife was? I swear I left it on the counter, one of you must’ve taken it. I need it back. I'mma open my package.”

“Jesus. _Fucking_. Christ. Becky!? Do you _ever_ knock?” 

“I would but you wouldn’t open, so…”

“And for a reason!” 

“I’m just skipping formalities and saving _your_ time.” Becky steps further into the room, eyes peeled and looking for the distinct symbol of her swiss knife’s brand. “If anything you should be thanking me.”

The bickering won’t ever end, and Bayley might’ve had to listen for the exact argument from both for the nth time this week. “You left it on top of the TV.” 

Becky squints in disbelief for a hot second, finally allowing the image of her placing it on top of the TV’s case cross her mind. “Shit, right. Thanks.”

And just about two seconds into walking out without the door closed, Becky pops in once again. “By the way, you look like a pornstar.” 

Sasha sucks in the mixture of pang and irritation that brews at the bottom of her gut, stirring insecurities at the back of her head as she just rolls her eyes in an attempt to see Becky off. It might’ve worked as Becky voluntarily leaves to possibly look for her knife. 

Of course, Bayley notices that her shoulders slightly fall in defeat as she tries her best to pull herself up, tension reverberating down to her feet as Sasha starts to look uncomfortable in her own skin. Bayley clears her throat, unsure of what else to do other than call out how visibly upset Sasha had become.

“...Should- should we start?” 

“Oh! Yeah. Let me just, let me just retouch my makeup,” Sasha lets out a nervous laughter, uneasiness flickering in the unsure movement of her hands, hovering across three different pouches until she got to where her makeup was stored. “Think it melted a bit. Damn, I really need to restock my setting spray. Hold on a minute.”

But everyone is familiar with the term ‘minute’ in Sasha’s language and Bayley huffs, knowing for sure that she has to deal with the palpable awkwardness coming out of her roommate, also knowing that Sasha had definitely taken Becky’s offense to heart.

 _“Bitch Fuck! Goddammit!”_ Becky’s voice was loud from the living room, muttering every single curse her own mother probably told her not to say. 

In what seems like the onset of an eruption that could only be quelled by giving the short-fused ass a sprinkle of attention, Bayley springs up from the bed and checks in on Sasha as she ducks to search for her face in the model’s vanity mirror. “I’ll just go check on that, I’ll be right back, mmkay?”

Sasha only retreats further into the trance of re-applying her mascara as a response.

With what already feels like an entire day when it was just shortly after lunch as the sun scorches through the living room, painting panels of light into the flooring, Bayley sighs as she finds Becky visibly bothered beside a poorly-cut box.

“It’s the wrong fucking order! God, I’ve been waiting for this for _days!_ ” Becky seethes, fists curled up, in preparation to fight- maybe, an entire system. “How hard is it to deliver the right package? They have _one_ job!”

“I think you should be a little nicer.” Bayley towers over Becky as she stands there with her arms firmly crossed. She ducks slightly to lower her voice, making sure that not a single octave can pierce through Sasha’s door. “Can’t you just ease it up on Sasha?”

“It doesn’t even require that much of a brain power to fucking sort out the packages, just people doing their shitty ass jobs!”

“Maybe you should try to - I don’t know… apologize?”

“Pea-brained little-”

Bayley swiftly interrupts through what was about to be a useless demeaning of every hardworking person in the country. “Becky!”

“What!?”

She sighs, making sure to emphasize what she is about to say. “You should be a little nicer to the person who’s been beating herself senseless to make sure that we’ve never been, and would never get evicted! Jesus like, you really and I mean _really_ need to pay your rent Becks. Even _I_ am getting tired of bailing you out!”

Bayley continues. “Look, just this one thing. Alright? You _need_ to apologize.” 

The words seeming like they’ve sunk in, Bayley patiently waits for the pensiveness that settles in Becky’s face - perhaps she may have gotten through.

However, Becky only shrugs. “Yep. Gotta go. I need to get my real package.”

* * *

It wasn’t too long until the doorbell rings and breaks Sasha’s trance. She takes one last look at the mirror and realizes that she might have overdone it with the lipstick, a cherry shade of red she feels like doesn’t suit her. 

“Hi.” A towering, blonde woman slightly shifts as Bayley opens the apartment’s front door, Sasha slowly walking towards the entrance.

“Charlotte Flair?” After eyeing the woman up and down Sasha cuts towards where Bayley stood and reaches out to shake the guest’s hand. “Please! Come in!”

* * *

Her face was a little bit of the classical, roman features, the type that would feature in older, whiter movies. And though she had a little bit of height on her, further propped by the fact that she somehow wore heels even though she was already taller that probably a large percentage of women could have intimidated most.

But _proper_ is probably the word that best describes the woman in front of Sasha, as she clears her throat seemingly having forgotten what were the first things to ask in a roommate interview. 

Having someone come in with a pressed, gray blazer is already a far cry from most of the roommates that they had even tried to entertain. 

Bayley clears her throat, pressing Sasha to start the conversation. She stirs, but it was composed, attempting not to flail under the couch that starts to grow a little bit less comfortable by the second. “My name’s Bayley, and I’m pretty sure you know Sasha. It’s nice to meet you.”

Charlotte curtly nods and flashes them a polite twitch of her lips that almost resembled a smile. Her eyes roam the apartment as if gliding throughout the same stretch of walls would somehow make the place bigger.“It’s nice to meet you.”

“So… uh,” Bayley chuckles nervously, a. “We just have a couple of questions… nothing that serious or anything! I mean- it’s usually to just kinda... ahh, I don’t know? Get to know each other you know? Finding a decent roommate has just been so _hard_.”

“Oh no I understand, I’ve experienced my fair share of trouble.” Charlotte’s legs cross, hands tensely placed on top of her lap. Sensing the silence though, her lips purses awkwardly, shifting in her seat as Sasha did. “I’m actually surprised how neat the place looks. You guys have a really nice apartment.”

That seems to catch a small smile from Sasha. She observes the intricately arranged frames, color-coded plates, and modernistic furniture and the minimalistic green decor that prettied the apartment. There was no doubt some of them looked… affordable, expertly mixed in with sturdy and branded objects but untrained eyes wouldn’t have known that.

“It was a bit of work…” Sasha rolls her yes. “Well, a lot of work. Admittedly. Houses around here don’t really come as presentable but, we try to make the best out of it.”

Charlotte chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair back into her otherwise neatly combed hair. “Tell me about it. I’ve looked. But not too deep into the city, some places… well let’s just say it’s going to be painful to try to send these clothes to the laundry if I do happen to be there.” 

“Right? I know exactly what you’re talking about.” The two share coy giggles, and Bayley finally feels like she could take a breather. It really wasn’t so much as she didn’t want to talk but, the sheer stature and demeanor of the woman in front of her made it seem as if not a lot of conversations were welcome. Sociologically speaking, she’s learned a bit about the benefits of stereotyping and Bayley is going to give this one to Sasha. 

The laughters die and Sasha relaxes a little into her seat, licking her lips as she braces to get serious. “So… would you mind if, like, I don’t know, we ask a few questions? Like Bayley said, it’s all just formality anyway.”

“So…” She continues. “Do you smoke?”

“Every once in a blue moon, just on important occasions when I feel like I have to.” 

Nodding to herself, Sasha drew a sigh of relief. “That’s good..”

* * *

Eventually, the questions started a pleasant conversation, talked through as Sasha began to tour Charlotte around the apartment. The quaintness of the apartment greatly contrasted the door that led to Sasha’s room. 

“I’ve pretty much just been trying to make it through that professor. _God_ , he is the worst. So yeah, you probably wouldn’t see me around a lot. Coffee shops have kind of allowed me to concentrate more.” 

“Understandable.” Sasha clicks her tongue, now opening the door towards her room to reveal an array of designer shoes, bags, and a sophisticated vanity mirror. “Nowadays both silence and noise can be, like, so loud.”

Charlotte’s eyes flicker, trained sight carefully scanning every item that she could name - and she could name most of them. “Chanel fan… huh.”

“Of course!” Sasha walks deeper into her room, enthusiasm clear from the bounce of her heel. “She’s one of the most important people to have graced this earth. Are you a fan?” 

“I respect her.” Charlotte’s gaze doesn’t exactly land on Sasha, but rather, whatever is behind her. “I’ve always personally acclimated into Ralph Lauren’s designs. Grew up with it, and it’s most of what my mom recommended.”

The woman’s presence was calm, towering… confident. Sasha takes a moment to herself, swallowing whatever hesitation there was that was stuck at the back of her throat. “For sure, I could see that happening. Your family profession and all. _Anyway_ , would you like to see what your room’s going to be if ever?”

“Although I have that same handbag back at my family home… and yes, I’d like to see the room.”

“No kidding? They only sold, like, a thousand or something of these!” 

“Rare.” Charlotte smirks. “Just as it should be.”

* * *

“So… what do you think?” Sasha slightly tiptoes, trying not to be blatant in the way that she checks the taller woman’s face for a reaction.

Charlotte’s vision glides upwards, looking for a height and a stretch from the room which did not exist. For the location, the apartment was cut above the rest. Though she didn’t expect a room that was anywhere near her old, gigantic apartment, she was going to have to throw at least a quarter of her possessions away to fit everything in the narrow room that some might be unfortunate enough to call an expanse.

“I like it…” She hesitates. “I just-” Abruptly stopped not by any kind of noise but the loud anticipation that radiates off of Sasha’s demeanor, Charlotte steps back and smiles at the seemingly younger woman. “I’m just not sure if my furniture would fit?”

“-We have a bigger room!” Sasha blurts. “It-it’s twice as big as this, and well I’m sure Becky would be happy to switch, she’s always just been too lazy to do it. Plus I think she’s got like… an agoraphobia or something?”

Bayley, quietly following them, almost vomited the sheer amount of snicker that she was holding. Because, of course, Sasha was lying.

Sasha continues, “Would you like to see that?”

* * *

“What the fuck have you been smoking Banks I am _not_ moving.” Becky curses through the bowl of takeout that she’s been eating on the way back to the apartment. Against her better judgement, it had seemed as if countless name-dropping and subtle threats does not exactly land one to the top of the shipping company’s building, but rather, outside of it. One thing she was going to give to herself was the fact that she probably knows a lost cause when she sees one.

Case in point, “Plus why in the hell are you off dilly-dally offering up people’s rooms like it’s your damn business? Aren’t you supposed to be busy right now trying not to look cheap!?”

Sasha bites the sharp pang that shot towards her gut. Becky can be cutting, and the worst part is that no one ever knew _when_ she meant it. “You’re right. I _do_ have business to attend to, which _I_ would very much _love_ to get back into once a certain someone- gets their shit together.”

“Are you trying to say something? I got my shit together, and I got my shit together when your livestream bullshit fucking broke didn’t it?” Fists clenched and lips folded up, Becky shoots up to Sasha’s height, using the less-than-an-inch difference between them to leverage some form of intimidation.

Quick on her feet, Bayley wedges herself between the two in an attempt to push Becky back. Albeit her steps shuffle backwards, she continues to speak, pointing accusations at Sasha with her index finger. “What about that time you needed the shower fixed just a solid hour before your photo-op?”

“Look,” Sasha’s eyes falter for a split-second before she steels herself up at Becky. “You’re going to move, and you won’t be able to do anything about it. You don’t get a say.”

“Okay guys,” sweat trickles from Bayley’s temple. It wasn’t that _this_ was uncommon, it’s just that today, the argument actually mattered. “Take a chill pill, relax or whatever.”

Sasha’s ankle lifts to stride towards Becky before Bayley warns her with a sharp stare. _"Do not."_

“Bayley.” Bayley’s name feels gritted against Becky’s teeth. “You’ve been here longer than anyone. And I’ve been there with you longer than _her_ , tell her man!”

“It’s just a room,” Bayley mutters.

“Well fuck it’s _my_ room! Why don’t you give IDontKnowWho Banks’ room she’s not using the space anyway.”

“You’re barely even here!” Sasha retorts. “For the record, I need the space for my mini studio. You can practically live in the living room since all you’ll ever need is your laptop and whatever slick lies you tell your clients.” 

“I earn more than you. But maybe that’ll change when you finally figure out what a good angle means.”

“You’re two months behind your bills!” Sasha’s voice rises and catches her throat into a scratchy texture. 

“You’re fucking high-strung and irritating!” 

“You keep losing things, you can’t even keep track of your own ass!” 

“Well that doesn’t matter now. At least I’m not the one whose only chance at a future lies on the greasy, grabby hands of a sleazy director.” 

“Fuck you!”

“Fuck _you_.”

“Fuck this!” Bayley cuts in. “I’m voting in. Becky, move out of your room, and please, for God’s sake… try to look for your package again or something.“ 

“Are you serious?” Disbelief flashes from knuckles that relaxes and tenses by the minute. 

“Yes!” 

Becky hisses, kicking a nonexistent rock out of the floor and hesitantly grabbing the doorknob before she opens it to leave. She throws Bayley one, last dirty look. “Whatever. I’ll fucking move. But don’t come looking for help when you need me Banks.” 

“Good. I don’t want your help.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading guys I hope you like it. Been brewing this lil' idea for a while and happy to be able to share it Think we all need somethin a lil bit light in this life? - RageAndRiches


	2. I Am Kryptonite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering 
> 
> It's Becky's world...
> 
> You're all just living in it.

The grumbling hasn't stopped from the moment she got the news that she was being displaced. Her face is pulled into an irritated scowl and she's only shades away from becoming a caricature of herself with smoke billowing out of her ears. To top things off, she dropped her degree in her attempt to pull the frame off the wall. The damn thing had shattered right there on the floor and it took everything within her not to stamp on it and put it out of its misery for good. Thankfully she hadn't. She only picked it up and carelessly flung it into one of her many boxes, silently daring the world to throw one more thing at her to piss her off.

"I still don't get why you're the one that has to move. I mean, that just doesn't seem like it's fair."

It most definitely is not.

Becky rolls her eyes and drops the box she had been carrying on the floor of her room. Her _new_ room she should say. Her new, much smaller room that shouldn't even have to be hers in the first place but low and behold everyone just appears to be out to get her today.

"It's democracy," Becky mocks in her best impression of Bayley.

It's bullshit.

It's complete and utter bullshit and Becky had wanted to deck the woman right in the mouth when she had said it, best friend be damned.

With the help of absolutely no one, Becky had worked earlier in the day to get her mattress moved onto the frame in the new spot. She had sat in the edge of the bed and stared at the empty room, annoyed as all hell that she's now going to have to figure out how to recreate and rearrange her entire set up she had before. If there's one thing Becky hates in life in general, it's being tossed curveballs she has no business catching to begin with.

Becky huffs audibly before leaning against her desk to give the room another once over. As she does so, she finds her girlfriend sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her with a curious look of what looks like worry. Becky finds herself tensing just slightly as she prefers to feel anything but exposed. Instead, she opts to busy herself with unpacking the box on her desk.

"I got 'outvoted'," Becky draws out the word sarcastically as she rolls her eyes again. "They really wanted the new girl moving in so that left me ass out in the fucking rain. I didn't even get a say in it!"

"And that's not fair," Carmella points out with a small pout forming at her lips. "I mean, you live here too, so that means you should get a say, right? They can't just force you around like that, especially when you were like, one of the first people here. You picked that room and it's been yours the whole time. They should respect that."

Becky scoffs as she sets a few things down on the desk with more force than necessary. "It's all freaking Sasha," she grumbles bitterly. "She's the one who found this chick anyway and she seems bitchy so I'm sure the two of them will get along _great_. Then Bayley's just going along with it to get on my nerves."

Due to her back being turned, Becky hadn't seen the split second where Carmella's eyes had narrowed. It's a fleeting moment but it's definitely there, but alas it passes by quickly as Carmella opts to examine her nails instead. "Well...what's the new girl like? Is she nice at least?"

"High strung? Bit of a bitch? I dunno. We haven't talked much. She's better than the last ones, I guess. I know I won't have to worry about going in the kitchen in the middle of the night to find ancient rituals happening in the living room," Becky pauses and shudders at the memory.

Carmella makes a face of disgust but quickly shakes it off as she shrugs. "Well...we could always, you know...think about getting our own place?" Her tone lifts uncontrollably at the end, almost as if she's toed this line of uncertainty before. Which she has. Multiple times. "Because then, you know, you wouldn't have to worry about the whole roommate thing. It'd just be us."

Becky swallows thickly and she's incredibly subtle about the quiet deep breath she takes. Stilling herself, she puts on her usual lopsided grin as she turns and faces her girlfriend. "Is that your way of saying you want me all to yourself?" She teases, just tilting her head to the side.

Carmella rolls her eyes, despite the light dusting of pink that appears across her nose. "I think it's pretty obvious I'm entitled to want you all to myself," she matches Becky's sideways grin with one of her own. "I mean, you _are_ mine, after all."

"Am I?" Becky teases back as she slowly sleuths across the room. She soon invites herself into Carmella's space from where she's sitting in the bed.

"Mhmm. You are."

"All yours?"

"All mine."

Becky reaches a hand out just in time to brace herself against the mattress as she's pulled into the kiss by the lapels of her jacket. The undressed bed is really anything less than inviting, but none of that matters as Becky shifts her weight enough to where she has her girlfriend trapped between herself and the mattress.

Carmella's kiss is hot and deep, and for Becky, the hands tangled tightly into her hair are doing wonders to encourage her further. Her own hands move with a quickness and they find themselves pushing up Carmella's tank top just enough to cup both her breasts. She smirks into the kiss when Carmella moans as Becky's thumbs massage her atop the confines her of satin bra.

Using her tongue to draw out a low moan, Becky shifts her weight once again to wedge her thigh just in between Carmella's legs. Her smirk gets impossibly wider as she's rewarded a needy gasp in return. She leans her weight to one side just enough to slip one of her hands between the two of them, her fingers dancing teasingly at the top of Carmella's shorts before daring to dip beneath the hemline.

_"Becky! Come get the rest of your fucking clothes out of here so Charlotte can move her stuff in!"_

The shrillness of Sasha's voice pierces even the closed door of the room. Becky sighs loudly and lets her head unceremoniously fall to her girlfriend's shoulder. If anything, she has half a mind to shout a nice piping hot round of her own expletives through the door, but she refrains.

Carmella, who is still flushed for all the world to see, rolls her eyes. Her sculpted eyebrows drop into a frown and her lips purse into a tightly thin line. The fact that she doesn't say anything at all is enough to have Becky rising from her shoulder.

"Sounds like democracy," Becky says in an attempt to lighten the mood that has since been ruined. When Carmella doesn't laugh with her, her lips poke out just slightly. "Aw, babe..."

"No, no. It's fine. You've got stuff to do. I just," Carmella sighs. "I miss you. I haven't seen you that much this week because we've both been working and then you've got this whole roommate business."

Becky echos the sigh. "I know...it's been a long week. How about this," she leans down and presses her lips against Carmella's neck where she begins to punctuate each of her words with a kiss. "I've got an evaluation with a client later, but after..." a kiss. "I'll come to your place..." another kiss. "I'll bring wine..." another kiss. "I'll cook..." The final kiss is a lingering one pressed against Carmella's lips. "Dinner for just the two of us, and none of _that_ ," she pauses to nod towards the door. "To interrupt us."

Carmella hums as she steals one more kiss. "It sounds good. Except. Let me worry about the wine," she smirks and gently traces the outline of Becky's lips with the tips of her fingers before dropping her voice down to a whisper. "You have terrible taste in wine."

Becky's mouth falls open and she immediately begins digging her fingers into Carmella's sides, drawing out a quick series of squeaks and giggles.

_"Becky!"_

Interrupted again, Becky growls irritably and flings a stray pillow toward her door even though that doesn't do much of anything. Carmella giggles at the action. "You should take care of that," she says before pulling Becky's down for one more quick kiss. "I'll see you at six?"

Becky's eyebrows furrows as if she's recalling something. "Ah, I've got my meeting at five thirty. It shouldn't take more than an hour, but let's say seven to be in the safe side. I'll call you if anything changes. I—"

 _"Becky, I swear to god!"_ She's cut off by a loud pounding on the door.

"For fucks sake! I'm coming! Jesus," she sighs irritably before smiling wearily back at her girlfriend. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good. Don't be late," Carmella gently stroked Becky's cheek with her thumb. "I love you."

Becky smiles and leans down for one last kiss.

* * *

Becky slides her arms into her blazer while simultaneously striding towards the kitchen counter where she had previously left her keys earlier in the day. She catches a whiff of food being made and she pokes her head into the kitchen to find Bayley sitting at the table and Sasha standing over a pot she's stirring at the stove. "Whatcha making?" she asks before sniffing again. "Smells burnt."

Sasha's jaw tenses and for a split second she looks as if she wants to fling the hot pot of boiling whatever in Becky's direction. "Funny. I couldn't smell anything over you smelling like the entire men's beauty section of a department store." She tosses back while barely glancing over her shoulder.

Becky folds her arms and leans against the kitchen entryway. "Didn't know you shopped in that section. Something you wanna tell us, Sash?"

"You know what—"

"Becky what do you want," Bayley cuts in, her voice sounding incredibly exhausted from the incessant bickering that has taken place the past couple of days.

Becky shrugs. "Just came to tell you guys I'm heading out. I've got a meeting," she casually swings her keys around her fingers. "Also wondering if her royal highness finished moving her whole life in."

Bayley and Sasha share a look before it's Bayley who answers. "She ah...went to get more."

"More!?" Becky's eyebrows shoot up. "Jesus Christ, how much shit does she have!"

"A lot..." Sasha mumbles.

"A lot," Becky echos before her signature smirk splits her features. "Hope it all fits. Be a shame if she has to take your room next and turn it into a walk in closet, Sash."

This time, Sasha does round in Becky and in one fluid motion, she's founding a spatula from the counter in her direction. It misses wildly and clangs somewhere off the edge of the wall. Becky stares at it and clicks her tongue before shaking her head.

"You missed. Anyway! I'll see you guys! Don't wait up!"

"Ass!"

* * *

The thing Becky loves about herself, amongst her lists of many things, is the fact that she can often get away with not _looking_ like she graduated top of her class.

With honors.

In case anyone was wondering.

It's honestly her favorite trump card to pull out on assholes who like to think that just because she doesn't have the blonde hair, blue eyes, or a dick of things, she doesn't have the capability to make it as big if not bigger than them. She went it on her own and made it out on her own and that's something she's damn proud of. Not to mention, she's pretty fucking good at her job and people recognize that.

A high degree in marketing and computer technology, Becky spends her time fixing what others can't and that's what's considered in this day in age to be the most important part of any company's infrastructure; it's online footprint. She's seen good web based systems and she's seen some that are just downright awful. What she pays ultimately depends on the amount of work, and of course, the client.

She's worked with some pretty big name clients before and if the elevator ride up to the penthouse floor of one of the most expensive apartments in the city is anything to go by, she would say that she's about to find herself on another pretty decent payroll.

The elevator dings at the top floor and Becky adjusts her laptop bag on her shoulder as she steps up to the door in the entryway. There's a doorbell, but Becky opts to knock on the white painted door before taking a step back to a respectable distance. She puts on her best smile as the door swings open to reveal a woman on the other side.

"Hi. Miss Green?"

The woman is a mess of upper city highlights and expensive makeup. She unashamedly looks Becky up and down before a smile graces her lips and she offers her hand.

"Chelsea. A pleasure."

Becky glances at the offered hand and she grins just slightly as she reaches up to return the handshake. If she can even call it a handshake. If there's something she's learned over time about the same high class women is that they all shake hands the same way.

"Rebecca, but just Becky is fine. Do you mind if I come in?"

"Please. Come in, make yourself comfortable. I'm sorry if the place is a mess. I just finished unpacking not too long ago and still need to get everything organized."

Becky snorts quietly to herself. "Tell me about it," she mumbles near silently.

She proceeds into the lavish penthouse and it's even more impressive on the inside, than the out. It has what can be considered a modern chic look and Becky knows for a fact that a single piece of furniture in this place probably costs a whole two months worth of her rent. Maybe three.

"Nice place," she says aloud as she concludes her once over. "Is there any particular place you'd like me to set up?"

The woman, Chelsea, shrugs. "Wherever is best for you is fine with me. You're the one here helping me after all."

Becky nods and opts to take a seat on the sofa in front of her. She pulls out her laptop and immediately begins getting to work as it starts to boot up and load up all the programs she's designed to make her job a whole lot easier. She's even come to rely on her own wireless router system she's programmed into her phone that allows her to use her phone as an advanced hotspot that doesn't eat up her cellular data and leave her high and dry with relying on client's WiFi connections that may or may not be less than ideal at the time.

"So...what're you doing?" Chelsea implores, leaning in from where she had opted to perch herself on the couch arm next to where Becky sits.

Becky can smell the woman's perfume that goes along with her closeness. Becky had done her research before she arrived tonight and she knows that this particular woman has just broken out big int he perfume industry. While she had a good laugh at the god awful business venture name 'Green Means Go', Becky has to give credit where it's due and respect the success.

The perfume does smell pretty good, too.

"Right now, I'm just taking an internal look at your website," Becky chuckles. "And it's _ancient_. You were selling stuff to people from _this???_ "

Chelsea laughs before she scoffs and flips her hair. "Hey! I'll have you know that this website made me millions. Surely it's not as archaic as you're making it sound."

Becky shakes her head. "No, no. It's pretty old. I mean, I'm surprised young people even know how to navigate it. Unless you made your millions off selling perfume to grannies," she turns towards the woman at her left and her smile slowly widens. "Are you selling granny perfume?"

It's a part of her charm that makes her so successful. She finds that the quicker she builds a rapport with her clients, the easier things are. On some occasions, she'll even cast a net to see if she can introduce a little banter here and there. It appears that tonight, said banter is a pretty good reception.

"Granny perfume or not, it's made me money," Chelsea once again leans in closer to see Becky's computer screen. This time as she moves, she just barely brushes against Becky's side. "So how bad is it?"

Something Becky definitely notices as the woman is now close enough for her to smell the commingled scent of her perfume and shampoo and the smell is borderline intoxicating. "I wouldn't call it bad. Just needs a few updates here and there. I can actually map out a few redesigns for it and send them over to you to see what you'd rather go with. From there I can make any adjustments you see fit. You know, add the stuff you want, get rid of the stuff you don't."

Chelsea hums. "Sounds easy enough. You know, it was actually my friend who recommended you to me. She gave me your card."

There's a pause and another hum. "You've been doing this sort of thing a while, then?"

Becky shrugs. "This particular thing? Yes. I've always been pretty good with computers though. Was kinda passion of mine growing up."

"Hmm, yeah. That's what I've heard too. I've heard you're…pretty good…"

By now, Becky takes note of how the other woman has nearly slid down to occupy the almost nonexistent space between her and the edge of the couch. From this angle, Becky has a clear view of the woman's cleavage from her low cut top and she can't even begin to tear her eyes away.

"Yeah…" she responds, her voice having gone just a bit lower. "Yeah, I am pretty good. I mean, you know…so I've heard at least."

"Just pretty good?"

"Well, you know. Pretty good…the best."

Chelsea reaches over and with a single finger, she slowly closes the face of Becky's laptop. The whole time, she doesn't break eye contact for a single second. "You know…I think I've seen enough so far, to know I'm going to hire you for this. After all, you do seem like you know what you're doing," her voice drops down to a whisper as she leans in even closer. "And I do need someone who's 'pretty good'."

Becky's eyes momentarily dart towards the watch at her wrist, before she plasters her signature grin on her face. Smirk still in place, she throws her arm over the back of the couch before turning to face the other woman head on.

"Well, Miss Green…I definitely look forward to working with you."

* * *

It's just about eight twenty that finds Becky on the other side of the door. She repeatedly runs her fingers through her hair several times before raises her fist to knock gently. She's left to stand idle on the other side for so long that she thinks she's going to have to knock again until she finally hears the locks turning and the door swings open. She immediately flinches from the glare she's immediately met with.

"Baby…"

Becky barely even gets the words out before Carmella is spinning on her heel and briskly walking back into her apartment. Taking note that it's a saving grace that the door wasn't slammed in her face, Becky enters and gently closes the door behind her. She pauses and takes a deep breath before she cautiously proceeds further into the apartment where she spots Carmella posted up across the room with her arms crossed and a deep scowl in place.

"Where were you?" Carmella asks, when Becky doesn't appear to offer any sort of explanation for her tardiness.

"I was…" Becky huffs and drags a hand through her hair again. "My meeting ran late."

Carmella laughs, but it's anything but humorous. "Your meeting ran late," she repeats with a nod. "Your meeting ran late by nearly an _hour_ _and a half_ after you said you'd be here and you didn't even call me!?"

Becky's mouth opens and closes for a second before she feels herself go rigid. "I was busy! Fuck, Mella it's not like I was off gallivanting around town! I was doing my _job_ which requires my full attention!"

"You still could've taken two seconds to at least send me a fucking text that you were going to be late instead of having me sit here waiting for you and wondering if something's happened!"

"You're right!" Becky shouts back, before her shoulders deflate and she drops her gaze to the floor. "You're right. I should've called or something, and I'm sorry. I didn't know it was gonna take that long and I lost track of time." When Carmella doesn't say anything, she risks taking a few steps forward until she's standing directly in front of her girlfriend. "Baby, I'm sorry."

Carmella's arms are still more or less folded, but she relaxes just a fraction as Becky wraps her arms around her waist and pulls her in. Her jaw is still pulled tight and she turns her away just to keep from looking at Becky's eyes she knows for a fact she'll surrender to if she does.

"Baby…" Becky tries again, leaning in just enough to nuzzle Carmella's cheek. "Look at me? Please?."

"I just wanted you to be here, because I miss you and I haven't seen you…" Carmella's voice is quiet as she continues to look away. This time, her avoidance is for the sake of hiding the glassiness in her own eyes.

Becky's eyebrows furrow. "I'm here now. Baby, I'm sorry. Look," she reaches out and gently cups Carmella's face and turns her head until they're looking at one another. "I'm sorry. I need to get better about letting you know when I'm gonna be late. I promise I'll do that, okay?"

Carmella's lips are still pursed, but she nods nonetheless. "I'm sorry…" she eventually mumbles. "I know how important your work is. Like I said, it's just been a while and I was really looking forward to this evening."

"Hey. The evening's not over. It might be a little late to prep and make something, but we can definitely order something. I'm thinking some of that spicy orange chicken from that place you like so much? Maybe some lo mein?"

A small smile appears at Carmella's lips as she ducks her head and nods. "And we can pick a movie? Curl up on the couch?"

Becky grins. "Yeah, we can definitely do that." When a beat passes between then she tilts her head just a bit. "Still mad at me?"

"Just a bit, but…that's probably because I'm just hungry now. I'll be less mad once you feed me," Carmella laughs quietly before leaning in to place a kiss just at the corner of Becky's mouth. "I've got the number in the kitchen. I'll go grab it."

"I'll be here," Becky responds with a small smile as she watches her girlfriend disappear off into the kitchen.

Several hours later finds the couple seated on the floor in front of the couch. They're surrounded by takeout containers, while the television serves as the only source of light that casts a blue hue over the room. The volume has been cut low, creating an overall sleepy ambiance.

Carmella had long since fallen asleep, taking up comfort on Becky's shoulder. Becky, now in her tank top and a pair of shorts, has an arm wrapped around her girlfriend while she will occasionally glance at her as she sleeps. She presses a gentle kiss to the side of Carmella's head before she's sighing quietly. She lets her head thump against the front of the couch, just before she closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello out there! Thanks for coming back for our fun little project here! Hope you guys have fun with this one! I know we did (are still currently doing) planning this one out!  
> See ya in the next chap!  
> -Phantom


	3. Boring?

It is at the rear end of the semester that Bayley often feels some sort of accomplishment. What looks like piles of paper to the rest of the faculty, who move around days on end like they had just wanted to get to the holidays, was the beating heart of Bayley’s passion. Not a lot of people understood each other, but people did like film - and the marriage of the understanding of the nature of society and entertainment was what she felt compelled to teach for the longest of time.

When she scans her eyes around the class, a lot of faces are stern - almost eager to end the session. She couldn’t possibly associate their business to the lack of interest, though, a lot of their grades showed otherwise.

Even then, she is determined to provide for her students the most for what they’ve paid for. “So guys,” she takes a quick glance towards her wristwatch, “at the end of this course, what do you think is the lesson that these topics are trying to say?”

Rare as it is, a solitary hand immediately pops from the middle of the classroom. Bayley nods at the student to grant him the permission to speak.

“That life’s a bitch until you die?” In this sentence’s aftermath is a collective laughter that coaxed a nervous chuckle out of Bayley, unsure of whether or not the joke was said in good faith. 

“Good enough,” she mutters. “Anybody else?” And before Bayley could spend another stretch of eternity for the recitation that would have taken a lot of encouragement to induce, the clock struck three - signalling the end of the course lecture series. The room immediately empties out as Bayley’s own voice echoes back to her.

“Oh and guys! Don’t forget, grade consultation is tomorrow!”

Once the chatter fades into a whistle in the wind and a distant noise of dismissal, Bayley melts into her chair with a pensive sigh. It is the end of yet another term and it seems like she would just have to get used to seeing these students she would never teach again, just hoping that she parts with them with their heads filled with a little more knowledge - and a bit more empathy. That was sociology after all, the point of human understanding.

The semester unfortunately concludes with a series of evaluations, not that it matters much to Bayley as validation is so rarely found in sheets of paper that students answer without reading, but she always takes the habit of checking to see if there is any significant feedback. Perhaps, behind the silence of a student, were newfound perspectives about the world. 

Once she gets to the faculty's office, she relaxes into her chair. It is only midday and the East Coast sun scorched past glass windows. Thankfully the airconditioning from the office mixed in to create an oddly comfortable feeling. The final part of the last hectic day was checking out evaluation.

The bright glint of her laptop’s screen looks dim from the glare, and even then the first few words that approaches Bayley’s field of vision were:

_ ‘Boring, could probably teach well if we knew what the f*** she’s talking about.’ _

* * *

“Well do you know who wrote it?” Carmella softly asks, still looking as if she was still too shy to move too much around the apartment, despite being such a regular guest. “They might be, like, trolling or something?” 

“No, no. I know who wrote it. They wrote their name.” Bayley shakes her head, still clearly under a bothered trance. Her mind is a little far from Carmella who only is a voice at the point in time. “All I’m wondering right now is, who _else_ thinks that way? Is this, is this something that’s been- I don’t know.” 

“It’s just one person.” Carmella continues to suggest. The soft rasp from the other woman’s voice is always surprising, that, in such a way, it didn’t at all feel like Carmella could sound condescending no matter how hard she tries. It was adorable, and Bayley has to stop thinking about it. “Students usually do that, just to get a high out of pissing you off. You’re like... not even boring.” 

“I don’t know dude… I hope it’s nothing. But you know how it is, these things don’t come out of nowhere.” Bayley clears her throat, taking note of Carmella’s presence as she offers her a quick glance. “Anyway, you and Becky got something for tonight?”

“What?” Giving her outfit a once-over, Carmella almost looks shocked that she was wearing something out of her usual clothes. “Oh! This? No, not really… no, but I did kinda want to surprise her. You like it?” She nudges her head to point at the ingredients set at the kitchen counter.

“Oh,” a soft smile emerges out of Bayley’s lips, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes as it follows Carmella who stands up to start preparing her ingredients. “What are you preparing? That looks like a full dinner over there.” 

“Nothing too fancy.” She shrugs off, as she starts to unwrap the grocery-bought beef patties. “I was just thinking, a little homemade burger? I’m gonna make some for you guys too, if you don’t have other dinner plans for tonight?” 

“No! Actually, I don’t. I don’t have any plans. You sure you’d want us interfering with you and Becky?” 

“Oh please! I love you guys so much, of course not. And Becky totally is getting more than dinner of course!” Something immediately halts Carmella’s process, as her hands holding lettuce is suspended in the air. Her face shifts a little bit as her gestures shrink. Bayley notices the sudden silence and ducks to check the woman’s face. A faint blush had crept up her cheeks. So maybe Bayley’s chest drops to her stomach a little when she realizes the implication.

Carmella clears her throat, shaking the pinkish hue away from her cheeks. “Well, enough about Becky. You think… you’re gonna do anything about that student?”

She stops for a second, the inertia of her thoughts inhibiting and cohesive thought from forming. Bayley continues to hum empty thoughts of her chords, almost shrugging to completely disregard the topic. “Still don’t know, I’ll think about it.” Maybe she’s tired. Except she wasn’t _that_ tired a couple of minutes ago before the topic shyly pivoted to Becky. “I’ll probably see if there’s something there - I don’t know.” 

“Maybe…” Carmella shrugs as she continues to busy herself with preparing the greens and other elements of the plating. “Maybe there is something there, I mean… how do you normally teach the kids?” 

“They’re not even that old…”

“Well you know what I mean.”

* * *

They were only fresh-faced losers back then when both Bayley and Becky met Carmella. Being on the outskirts of social structure, it didn’t at all seem like the peppy cheerleader would want to hang out with either of them; not that they were _gross_ , just not particularly special. On the days where they had class together, the blonde sat on the far-right of the front row, diligently writing notes, and she would always notice her wonder about confusing topics, but she would never ask about it.

And then they were lab partners, muted giggles as they ducked their heads from behind vials to entertain themselves in spite of the long-winded lecture. Week after week, Bayley started to look forward to Wednesdays, that too short of a long class. The conversations weren’t anything particularly special, but maybe the person from where words came out of was. It was a little thing Bayley had kept to herself. 

Over a slow burn of time, Carmella had visited her thoughts a little more frequently. Not to a paralyzing extent, even though at that age, that was how infatuations were supposed to look. Just to an extent, she would instinctively search for a familiar face in a sea full of people. That was exactly what she was doing on Wednesday when Carmella didn’t show up for lab. 

The school bell deafeningly rang as her shoes sprung up to leave the classroom, her eyes searching the corridors for someone who might just actually be absent. She remembers wondering about whether or not Carmella might have been sick. She remembers thinking that she could bring her sliced fruit the next time they see each other. But a blonde of a familiar height peeked from the slope of the faceless crowd and then there was another head full of sun-stricken red hair that nodded beside her who was leaning against a locker that wasn’t hers, scratching the back of her head. 

Carmella disappeared from Bayley’s vision as Becky had started to walk towards Bayley, unaware of the plain-faced teen that stood in front of her from a short distance. As the crowd cleared out, Becky noticed the outline of her tied-up hair, and the posture that made Bayley seem like she hadn't fully realized just how tall she had gotten over the summer. 

“Dude!” Becky skipped towards her friend, in what looked like a boyish glee. “You’ll _never_ guess what just happened!” 

Perceptive people would have noticed just how burdened Bayley’s expression was. Burdened and effortful in her attempt to look at least a bit excited for whatever kind of grim news Becky was about to break. 

“Yeah?” She pretended. “What’s up dude?”

“Remember Carmella?”

And after the words fell out of Becky’s mouth, Bayley remembers the next few moments as they happened through a blur of sound and memories. There was a mention of a date, a mention of cheerleaders, stadium, hot, and a distinct voice coming out of her own mouth that said ‘I’m happy for you’. 

Pretty much everything after that rolled around like a painful haze that Bayley has somewhat learned to accept. Thoughts of how much she could do better than Becky far, far away from her mind.

* * *

“Bayley?” Carmella follows up, allowing the professor to snap out of her emotionally induced haze.

“Yeah! Uhh… I don’t know what I’m gonna do about the students. I could try to talk to them I guess, but then I’ll probably have to brush up on the policy regarding out-of-classroom communication and all that shit.” Bayley huffs, almost too tired to continue a conversation that Carmella was enthusiastically keeping afloat.

“Well if you need help going over lectures, you know I have a lot of spare time on my hands these days.” Catching on to Bayley’s attempt to shrug off the conversation, Carmella decides to let it rest. She takes out a patty from the pan and sets it on top of a ceramic plate where it seared with a sizzling allure. “Do you wanna try it?”

“Ah… it’s okay, thank you! I’ll eat later, I’m still pretty full from lunch.” With the unsavory rush of memories that randomly surfaced in Bayley’s head, the only thing that was really keeping her glued to her seat at the living room was the fact that the next person that the only other person in the apartment was Sasha. The two never really got along well. Not that people had evidence of it, but it was always _felt_ more than seen. Statistically speaking, there have been far too many occasions of the two women being in the same room only for clipped pleasantries to be exchanged between them.

“Come on, please? Just a bite?” Carmella pleads, making her way back to the couch where Bayley sank into with a plate and a fork full of beef patty that was waiting to be devoured. “Please?”

“Bayley?” She adds. 

Honestly? It was hard to refuse Mella. 

There is certainly no harm to playful concession, and she is pretty sure Carmella didn’t really mean anything by it. She was just a naturally, captivatingly sweet person. She always has been. Bayley took a mouthful of patty as it was fed to her by Mella who looked eager to search her face for a reaction. 

It was a tasty bite, flavor bursting from the juices trapped inside the pan-seared beef. Though the woman has always been a connoisseur of all things granola, it surprises her every now and then that Carmella had a generally good taste for most things. “Wow.” 

“So?”

“It’s pretty good.” Bayley nods, forking into the patty that grows smaller by the second. “Where’d you get this?”

Carmella almost jumps completely out of the sofa as an arrogant thump forces the door open, revealing Becky who sported bloodshot eyes from a seemingly utter lack of sleep. And for an unsurprising turn of events, Bayley immediately disappears from the sphere of attention. She is okay though, lest she tells herself as she props herself up from the couch and starts to head towards her room. Bayley would so often talk about Functionalism, to tell her students that the good thing about hierarchies is that everyone has a place in this world. She thinks that maybe this was hers.

“Bay.” Becky calls for her attention. Which seems to happen an _awful_ lot whenever Carmella was around. Then again, no one can really trust their own perception under rose-colored glasses.

“Yeah?” Bayley replies with an unsteady breath. Her feet are pointed towards her room as her body pivots back to Becky. “Was just about to clock in more sleep. Sasha told me to tell you about rent. You know, the usual.”

“Fuck that.” Becky hums nonchalantly, setting herself and Carmella down the couch that Bayley had just vacated. It is kind of funny how the woman had always made it a point to occupy at least two spaces of anything for herself. This too would have been a non-issue if it were just a matter of sitting in furniture with her legs spread open. Except, Becky really did insist in inserting herself towards other people’s lives. “It’s a Friday! You know how it is dude! Don’t we have a game to watch or something, just like old times.”

“We haven’t watched a single thing since college.” 

“Funny.” Rolling her eyes, Becky reaches over an end table just situated beside the couch for the remote. She turns on the television as her hand descends from Carmella’s shoulder to Carmella’s waist. “I remember all of us watching something a while back…” 

“That was the commercial you made. You practically almost tied everyone to a chair and trapped us in the apartment just to watch that.” 

“Wow. You guys absolutely had the free will to leave, you just didn’t want to.” 

“You barricaded the door.”

“Well what about that time that we all sat down for that movie… what was that? Descendants of Men?”

Bayley’s eyes narrow. “ _We_ , did not sit down to watch Children of Men. I was prepping for my class and you happened to insert yourself into a cramming session just to piss me off.”

“Okay whatever.” And Becky who had the audacity to roll her eyes, turns her attention back to Carmella who had been slightly snuggled by her side at that point in time. 

Of course, Bayley looks away. There aren’t seconds that are short enough to get her to her room as fast as she could. Except-

Carmella leans into Becky’s shoulder. “I’ll watch with you.” 

It could be yet another sleepless and noisy night that would transition into an absolutely noisy morning when Sasha complains about not getting any sleep from the noises that are elicited from Becky’s room. It was indeed a Friday and Bayley tells herself that she’s just going to have to take one for the team. Maybe she’s mad enough to believe it, that she isn’t a selfish person. 

“Fine. Dinner and a movie then?”

* * *

The next morning, packed granola snacks burn holes into her bag as it feels heavy from the fact that they were packed by Carmella. She slept over at the apartment, which wasn’t necessarily new - but felt as if making dinner wasn’t enough. Without the Becky element, Carmella had almost felt like a not-girlfriend. Except, there _was_ a Becky element. And the entire night of being roped into third wheeling was proof of that. 

She doesn’t know how many times she has to remind herself that Carmella was just a really sweet friend. There’s nothing more to it or less. And that, maybe, she never really had a chance. Hence, the difficulty eating the _fucking_ granola bar. But she swallowed it, like her pride, as grade consultation day is usually peppered with students who don’t understand that you can’t round off laziness. She’ll need the energy.

Not a lot of students came by. It is probably partly owed to the fact that the semester had heavier subjects with actual chances of failing. And Bayley? Almost no one ever fails Bayley’s subject.

Quite honestly, it is a reputation she didn’t mind. Instructors never go to school and become professionals with the primary goal of failing students. For as long as they leave the class with their perspectives slightly expanded, Bayley doesn’t mind. 

Just a few minutes before the closing hour approaches, footsteps shuffle towards the door and reveal a face that makes a lot of things click in Bayley’s head. 

It’s her best student. Incidentally, _that_ student who wrote ‘boring’ on her evaluation paper. 

“Mandy.” Bayley acknowledges her with a nod. “I’ve seen the evaluation. I’m surprised that you’d be here.”

The student demurely sits in front of her. And even then, Bayley isn’t a fool to notice the sheen of arrogance that underpinned such action. She reminds herself that every kind of feedback is important, and in the off chance that this was bullshit? It’s coming from somewhere. “Well? Would you like to know your grade?”

“Sure I wouldn’t mind.” She speaks as if she already knows, and part of it may have irked Bayley a little bit. 

Her grade is a few steps shy from being a perfect score, Bayley tells her that. The student affirms that it might have been the time for when they had to study Weber, around middle of the semester. To an extent? It feels as if the student just went there to gloat.

As the clock aligns to the direction that tells everybody that consultation is over, they pack their stuff right in front of each other in silence. And while the most that she could do is wait for the room to empty, Bayley instead walks ahead of the student who had seemed adamant to waste her time.

“Ms. Martinez.” The student halts her, and Bayley only stops to hum an inquisitive response. “I love film and sociology.”

“Well.” Bayley almost scoffs in an attempt to choke out a sardonic laughter.

“I love what you’re teaching. Except, honestly? Nobody else does. It’s hard to appreciate concepts and words when people don’t get it in the first place.” She breathes. “I really respect your intellect. It’s just difficult to grasp and get on your level for a lot of people. So why bother?” 

Bayley is no longer facing the student when she mutters a clipped thanks, walking away before the other could walk past her.

It doesn’t hit her immediately, but eventually she thinks that there was something to what Mandy said. And she isn’t exactly sure why the first person she wanted to tell it to was Carmella, and that is why maybe she should tell Sasha instead. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyo guys I'm sorry that it took a while! Was stuck in a bit of a thing, but we are definitely back now! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> \- Requiemesque/RageandRiches


	4. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting is just something that Charlotte is having a bit of a hard time fitting into her schedule.

6:45 AM.

That’s the time her alarm is supposed to go off. That’s the time it’s set to go off every day. Now as far as the time she actually wakes up? Now that… _that_ is absolutely a different story that often depends on the night before and more importantly, the day ahead. 

Today’s lucky number just so happened to be a wonderful 4:30 AM. It definitely more on the earlier side for her, but in that same breath it could absolutely be worse. She supposes that the unforeseen restlessness has to do with sleeping in a new place. While it’s still her bed of course, there’s just something about being in a strange environment for the very first time that leaves her a bit jumbled. She’s always been like that.

Turning over onto her side, she just barely catches a glimpse of the clock.

6:44 AM.

Charlotte reaches out for her phone and flips the alarm to ‘off’ before it has a chance to start the incessant chiming that’s due to start any moment. As much as it’s become a part of her daily routine, that doesn’t make her any more thrilled at the potential of hearing it. Although, of all the things that could possibly be waking her up in the middle of the night, she guesses that it’s not the worst of options. At least when her phone rings and it’s only the alarm, she’s not met with the task of answering it. That is usually when things turn troublesome. 

Sitting up in bed proves to be a more daunting task than she would have liked, and she can only attribute that to the less than stellar night sleep she got the night before. A new place accompanied with the no less than R-rated noises she heard coming from the other side of the wall, it’s no surprise that Charlotte is left feeling just a bit slighted on sleep. She actually takes a second to glare at the wall in question, as if it’s the one solely at fault for not being thick enough to drown out such noises.

Her morning routine is usually on the simpler side. She always takes care to lay out her clothes the night before, that way, she doesn’t feel the need to be rushed when she steps out of the shower. The shower. That’s always the same too. Always about thirty minutes. Nothing more, nothing less. Coupled with the other hygienic and primping necessities, Charlotte is typically stepping out of her room at around 7:35AM to start her day.

7:35 AM.

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips as the hands on her watch read her consistency back to her. She can’t remember the last time, if ever, that she had deviated from her routine. Consistency has always been a big part of her life, you know. For as long as she can remember, it’s always been _‘people respect schedules, Charlotte’_ which was always succeeded by the more firmly spoken, _‘if you’re on time, you’re late’_.

_‘People respect schedules, Charlotte. They respect consistency. When you’re on time? And consistent? People respect you.’_

Whether that last one is always in her own voice, or the voices of others, she never really knows. Nevertheless, she doesn’t exactly have the time or desire to figure such a thing out. There’s no use in wasting valuable time on labeling such valuable omens. All she knows is that it exists and it’s something she’s pretty much had to live by her entire life.

The apartment is quiet, as it usually is around this time. Honestly, though she hasn’t been here for very long, she has noticed that early mornings are typically the only time where one would be rewarded with the luxury of silence. Any other time is typically filled with bickering, both banter and serious of the like, music blasting from one room or another, or the sounds of more…intimate activities. Charlotte can’t help but roll her eyes at that last one.

Armed with her textbooks and coffee tumbler, she strides past the kitchen as she sets out to start her day.

“Hey!”

Charlotte flinches, startled by the sudden explanation that had not only pierced the silence, but also her thoughts. She certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone to be up and about at this time. Usually there isn’t. Only now, she finds her usual routine disrupted by a morning’s greeting, and for a solid five seconds, Charlotte doesn’t move as she tries to process what’s supposed to happen next.

Turning her head, Charlotte finds a familiar head of purple hair peeking up at her over the back of the couch.

It’s just Sasha.

Charlotte lets out a quiet mental breath at that realization. Not that she had expected it to be anyone other than someone she lives with, she just hasn’t been here very long and thus hasn’t exactly found herself all too acquainted with her remaining two roommates. Bayley often seems to be bogged down with coursework, while Becky is frequently in and out of the apartment, and when she’s in, well…let’s just say she’s been a contributor to Charlotte’s lack of sleep. 

Sasha is okay though. At least so far from where Charlotte stands. Most times, she does find herself smiling politely and nodding when applicable as she tries to keep up with the other woman’s rapid-fire thoughts. On most people, that would annoy her, but she can’t help but sense something of a genuine ambition within Sasha. It’s something that truly reminds her of herself, if she’s being honest.

“You’re leaving early…are you okay?” 

Charlotte blinks quickly, as she’s suddenly brought back to the realization that she hasn’t even given the other woman so much as a ‘hello’.

“Yes, of course. I’m fine. I usually leave around this time.” Pausing, Charlotte’s eyes narrow slightly as she takes in the laptop in the other woman’s lap and the headphones hanging from her neck. “I’m usually up this early, but no one else is? _You’re_ up early, aren’t you?”

It’s a bit too dark in the living room to notice it, but Sasha’s gentle laugh would indicate a feint blush that dusts her face.

“Usually, I’m not. I’m more of a nine ‘o clock-ten girl if I don’t have anything to do,” Sasha shifts on the couch and slightly lowers the screen of her laptop. “I was working on editing a video and got kinda carried away, I guess. I ended up falling asleep out here.” She rubs at the back of her neck, indicating some discomfort from dozing off on the sofa. “Did you sleep okay?”

A slightly amused smile tugs at the corner of Charlotte’s lips. “In a sense. It was kind of difficult at times seeing as I think someone had company last night.”

Sasha’s eyes widen momentarily before they immediately roll. “Oh my god…” the last of her words dissolve into a groan of irritation as she closes her laptop with a bit more force than necessary. She swings her legs over the edge of the couch and is murmuring to herself all the while trudging into the kitchen.

Charlotte watches her as she passes, and then takes a sneaking glance at her watch.

7:40 AM. She has time.

Adjusting her bag over her shoulder, Charlotte carefully treks after the other woman into the kitchen where she finds Sasha still muttering to herself as she not-so-quietly begins pulling out the necessary ingredients for a cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sasha tosses over her shoulder. “Becky really likes to show off and her girlfriend is more on the…loud side. I’m so sorry you had to listen to that. I’ll definitely let her know about it.”

“It’s fine. I mean, if they want to spend time together, I guess that’s alright for them.”

“Yeah, but the rest of us really don’t need to be subject to listen to it.”

Charlotte can’t exactly disagree with that and she finds herself nodding with a laugh. “That’s definitely true.”

Sasha hums and continues to prep her own coffee. It’s then that she notices the books wrapped in Charlotte’s arms. “Oh my god, I’m not keeping you, am I? Do you have class or something?”

“Or something,” Charlotte glances down at her books with a quiet chuckle. “I was planning on maybe checking out some places around the city that might make for some good study spots. It would be nice to have a few in mind whenever I start to feel a little cooped up here. Sometimes I just find myself unable to get anything done at home, you know?”

“Oh, tell me about it! _Especially_ here. I swear to god, I’d rather take a crowded café over Becky’s noise any day of the week,” Sasha concludes with a scoff and another eyeroll.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow in interest, but she doesn’t say anything. If there was one thing she had noticed, was the bickering between Sasha and their aforementioned roommate. Now Charlotte is absolutely one to mind her own business, especially on matters that don’t at all concern her, but she can’t help but be just a tad bit curious about that.

“Anyway, if you’re looking for some cool spots to study, I have a few recommendations? I could show you, if you want?” Sasha immediately begins to backtrack. “Only if you’re up for it. I’m sure if you’re trying to get out of the house you probably don’t want to be bothered and I didn’t mean to assume.”

Company certainly wasn’t in her schedule, and in a past life, maybe Charlotte would have found herself immediately declining the offer. Hell, in a part life, Charlotte probably would have found herself living alone. Maybe it’s all those differences that has her eventually nodding in acceptance.

* * *

For Charlotte, law school has always been the answer. Even when she was a little girl and was asked the proverbial question ‘what do you want to be when you grow up’, she had always surprised all of the grownups with her answer.

_‘I’m going to be the best lawyer in the world.’_

The adults were always initially so taken aback by the confidence spoken in her voice. Here was this little girl no older than six telling the world, not what she _wanted_ to do, but what she was _going_ to do. That’s how she had been raised though. Everyone could want, but very few would actually take initiative and step out and take it. Charlotte knew if she was ever going to be someone in life, that sitting around _wanting_ , was never going to do her any good.

“So, what made you pick law school?”

Charlotte is sure that she’s been reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again when the question is asked. She blinks in surprise before she looks up to find Sasha watching her from over the screen of her laptop. They had both been working on their separate things in a comfortable silence. This is the second café they’ve been two in the span of two hours. Not that there was anything wrong with the first one, but the quest eventually shifted from a study spot search to a coffee hop when they both discovered their mutual preferences for all things espresso.

“Ah…” the word leaves Charlotte akin to a noise that resembles a quiet sigh, and she carefully marks her page in her textbook before closing it. She reaches out and takes hold of her coffee cup, humming quietly as she takes a sip. “You ever feel like you _know_ you’re meant to do something?”

Sasha nods eagerly, closing her computer as she gives Charlotte her full attention.

Charlotte’s eyes drop as she watches her finger aimlessly trace around the rim of her mug. “All my life I knew I was going to be a lawyer. Back home, my parents own a firm. They’re the best in the business and I guess I always knew I was destined to be the same.”

If Sasha were paying close enough attention, she would see how just for a split second, the other woman’s gaze is far off and distant. Almost as if she’s absently searching for the world’s greatest answer to the world’s most difficult question. Her eyes narrow and the corners of her lips tug downward as she loses herself deep in thought.

“Well, I think that’s pretty awesome. Setting up to take over the family business and all that.”

Charlotte is jolted out of her daze by Sasha’s somewhat excited exclamation. A tiny smile replaces her far-off look as she refocuses.

“Yeah…I guess you could say it is.”

* * *

They had stayed out a lot longer than Charlotte had intended, especially seeing how she had intended to be alone in the first place. In fact, she actually hadn’t gotten hardly any reading done, in favor of listening to Sasha excitedly ramble on about future ideas she has for her blog. The girl could talk non-stop, but Charlotte hadn’t minded. She was the one who asked to know more about it in the first place, and she was a bit surprised that Sasha had such a unique eye for creativity. While Charlotte herself doesn’t dabble much in social media, she’s filed away to definitely check out Sasha’s channel some time.

The shock that umbrellas the entirety of Charlotte’s day, is the sheer fact that she found herself having fun. On a regular day where she would’ve been stressed about keeping up with her readings, she found herself actually having _fun_ , which if anyone were to ask her about her daily schedule, ‘fun’ isn’t really ever something she pencils in. This afternoon, however, she had. Even though it was just bouncing from café to café testing out the varying tastes of espresso this city has to offer, it was something different. It was relaxing. It was _new_ , and that had been the whole reason Charlotte had moved here in the first place. She was in search of something _new_.

“Sorry again if I was a bit of distraction,” Sasha points out as she inserts the key into their front door. “On the way back I kind of realized we spent so much time talking about me, I didn’t really let you get any reading done.”

“It’s no problem,” this time when Charlotte smiles, she feels that it comes a lot easier. “I’ve read a few chapters ahead of the rest of the class anyway. Besides, it was nice. Surely the places we visited aren’t the only places that offer the ‘world’s best coffee’?”

Sasha’s eyes widen just a fraction because she hadn’t expected that. It’s just very subtle, but straight forward enough to recognize when a friendly offer has been extended. “Definitely not! I actually did a video about cafés and bistros around last year. There’s _plenty_ more where that came from.”

“Excellent, I’ll put it into my schedule then. Should we try…maybe one new one a week?”

“Sounds good. I’ll dig up the list and we’ll go from there!”

It’s been an easy day, and it’s slated to be uneventful. That is, until Sasha opens the front door and they’re immediately met with the loud blasts of what sounds like heavy garage metal. Charlotte’s eyebrows furrow at the rather unpleasant assault on her ears, and a quick glance to her left reveals that Sasha’s face has completely molded into one of disgust.

The culprit of such noise is one Bluetooth speaker mounted on the fireplace mantle that belongs to none other than one of their roommates who sits cross legged in the center of the living room surrounded by a series of technical parts and tools. A couple of screws hang from the corner of her lips and she bobs her head along to the grotesque music as her hands quickly sort through the parts pile in front of her.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Sasha’s grumble is just barely audible over the sounds of the music. “Becky, are you serious!?”

Whether Becky doesn’t hear Sasha or just out right ignores her, is largely unknown. She continues to nod along with the music, at one point, pausing for a split second to air guitar a solo. Soon, she returns to her task at hand, none the wiser that she’s no longer alone.

Rolling her eyes, Sasha crosses the room where she snatches the speaker from the mantle and appears to power it off. The room is plunged into silence and Becky’s head immediately snaps up.

“Hey! What’s your problem!?”

“What’s yours?” Sasha shoots back immediately before her eyes drop to the mess in the living room. “And what’s all _this_?”

Becky’s eyes light up and she grins before brandishing her arms. “Check it out. I got a pretty sweet bonus from the last client I had, so I figured it was finally time to upgrade the ole desktop. This graphics card will be able to power anything in 5K!”

Charlotte’s eyes slowly creep up as she watches Sasha’s demeanor begin to change drastically. For a second, she wonders if she should step in and say something, because even _she_ knows an oncoming disaster when she sees one. She doesn’t have to have been living here for very long to figure that.

Unfortunately, that split moment of hesitation allows Sasha to let out a noise that’s a cross between a groan and an aggravated scream.

“You fucking…you _bought_ stuff for your stupid computer _before_ giving me your part of the rent!?” For a split second, it looks as if Sasha is about to fling the speaker across the room, but it’s by only a miracle that she has enough wherewithal to place it, albeit it aggressively, back on the mantle. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

Becky’s eyebrows lift and she holds her hands up in a defensive motion. “Wow, okay. I don’t need you crawling up my ass about what I do with my check.”

Sasha scoffs in complete disbelief. “Well, _someone_ needs to be ‘crawling up your ass’ when you keep falling behind!”

“I told you I’m working on it!”

“Yeah, working on it for how long!? While you continue to squander your paychecks away on stupid shit instead of taking care of responsibility.”

“Oh, here we go,” Becky rolls her eyes and leans back on her hands while she regards Sasha with a dismissive look. “Go ahead. Go on one of your tantrums about what I do with my money. At least I _have_ a job. Unlike you who hopes to catch a break from ‘lifestyle motivation’ or whatever that crap is you film and call content.”

Sasha’s entire body goes rigid and her fists clench tightly. Her silence is largely deafening. However, Becky remedies that with a tilt of her head and an arch of her brow.

“What’s the matter? Got nothing to say now, because you know I’m right?”

Sasha deflates and shakes her head as she quickly steps over Becky’s mess. “Fuck you…” she hisses as she makes a beeline for her room.

“Yeah, in your dreams, Princess,” Becky calls after her before scoffing. It’s then that she notices Charlotte still lingering on the edge of the living room. She chuckles quietly as she gets to her feet and dusts off her pants. “Welcome to New York, Charlie. Hope you brought extra blankets. This place gets pretty chilly at night when you live with the Ice Princess.”

Charlotte quirks her eyebrow at the comment. “Just Charlotte is fine…” she mumbles to the other woman’s retreating back as she disappears down the hall.

Shaking her head, she sets her textbooks on the counter and proceeds into the kitchen. She’s just opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water when something moves out of her peripheral. Jolting, she turns quickly, only to be surprised when she spots Bayley sitting at the kitchen table typing away on her laptop. Over her ears appear to be a large pair of headphones that she eventually pulls down thanging around her neck.

“Noise cancelling comes in handy with the two of them…” Bayley states without looking up from her computer. Her typing pauses momentarily before a sarcastic smile crosses her lips. “Sometimes.” 

Getting over her initial startle, Charlotte sighs quietly. “Is it always like that?” she hadn’t much interreacted with Bayley since she moved in, due to the similarities of both of their schedules. Now that she thinks about it, this is probably the first time they’ve been alone together.

This time, it’s Bayley who sighs as she looks up for the first time. “Not all the time. They tend to disagree more often than not but it’s not…always like that.”

Charlotte laughs quietly as she leans against the kitchen island. “Something tells me you’re just saying that so I don’t pack up and move out immediately.”

Bayley laughs openly at this. “Is it working?”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” Charlotte answers with a laugh of her own. “My undergrad apartment wasn’t too far from sorority row. Nothing like a bunch of drunk freshmen staggering into the wrong building at night.”

“Oh, tell me about it. Except for me, it’s drunk freshmen staggering into my class in the middle of the day.” 

“Now that sounds fantastic.”

“Yep. As fantastic as it was having to end class early due to the kid who threw up in the back, I’d rather not get to the point of having to put that in my course description. Nothing like listing ‘hungover’ in my syllabus requirements.”

For the second time that day, Charlotte finds herself at ease. Long forgotten is her textbook on the kitchen island where she left the rest of her things. Along with those things is her cellphone that sits atop the textbook itself. If she were looking at it, she would see it light up with the word ‘Home’ displayed across the screen. It buzzes for a while, stopping and starting before going dark again. If there was an off chance that Charlotte heard it the first time, she never once made the move to answer it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this one! Feel free to let us know what you think! :D On to the next chapter!   
> -Phantom


End file.
